


sanity turned to ash in your mouth

by Hymn



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ableist Language, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Black Moon Clan - Freeform, Bondage, Crystal Tokyo Era, Dark, M/M, Mentions of Therapy, Mirrors, Twisted thoughts, Violence, bdsm play, but pre-black moon clan, but they don't raelly have tags for them??, extreme imagery, i think, i'm just really trying to point out that these are not healthy happy individuals okay, i've always been bad at that, if i missed anything in this mess pls let me know, lack of voiced consent, mostly just Rubeus and Saffir, pain play, psychopaths, talk of mental stability??, that i can find anyway, there's a reason they're villains!, villains thinking bad awful things, zero kink negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-12
Updated: 2007-07-12
Packaged: 2019-05-08 03:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14685095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hymn/pseuds/Hymn
Summary: Crystal Tokyo is slowly suffocating the earth.





	sanity turned to ash in your mouth

**Author's Note:**

> for springkink, _Sailor Moon, Rubeus/Saffir: Mirrors - "you push down upon my knees/give me the rest"_

Crystal Tokyo is slowly suffocating the earth. No, not just suffocating - it is _smothering_ the planet, the people. Crystal Tokyo is like a malignant tumor upon Saffir's home world; a disease that spreads its horrifying stagnation everywhere, until Saffir wouldn't be surprised to turn and no longer see people walking down the street, but, rather, crystal sculptures fixed in a moment of faux joy.

This supposed utopia of a world makes Saffir sick.

And maybe it runs in his family, because his brother seems to think so, too. Only, he's more vocal about it, more obvious and furious and contemptuous, and that's why Demando is forced to go to therapy and shrinks by their horrified and confused parents. Saffir is different: he is quieter, calmer about it, more restrained.

Saffir wakes up in the morning, and he goes to school; he pays attention in his classes, and passes all his tests, and he thinks about systematically killing each and every one of his peers. The teachers, he thinks, he would like to torture some, except that it would be a waste of resources and time, really.

Everyone around him is happy, and blissful, and they smile with bright eyes, and Saffir watches it all move past him from behind a mask, and thinks, _you can't know what real happiness is. You_ can't.

But Saffir could probably teach them. He could make them cry and bleed, he could teach them horror and desolation, and then they could look back to this, to now, and think, _I was happy then_. Or they could realize exactly how hollow their existences truly are.

In the end, though, it doesn't matter, because Saffir sits at the dinner table doing math equations when Demando comes back from whatever psycho babble bull shit their parents are trying this time, and he sees the growing wildness in Demando's eyes, the fury and the disgust and the insanity of always being questioned, closed in on, dissected like he is the one in the wrong, instead of one of the only people who know the right of it.

At night, in their room, Saffir tells him, "You are getting no where fast, brother."

"Shut up, Saffir," Demando responds, voice cold and hateful. "At least I am _alive_."

But it doesn't matter, really. Because Saffir and Demando are two brothers alone in their beliefs. Crystal Tokyo is suffocating them, and Saffir, at least, might have just a little dignity when it finally drives him mad.

*

Saffir is in high school when it happens. Demando is off in college overseas, like that will help calm his irrational hatred for their oh so perfect monarchy. Saffir would never have admitted it, but it's very lonely without his brother, not because they were ever very close, but because now he is alone in his beliefs.

Surprisingly enough, this changes.

*

"I heard tales," says a voice that Saffir has never heard before. "Tales of your brother. Is he really crazy?"

Saffir doesn't pause from switching out the books he needs for his next class. He closes his locker calmly, stands up smoothly, and turns around, and is more than surprised at what he finds there. He's never seen anyone quite like this, with a lazy insolence around his mouth, and eyes like a snapping fire to match the red of his hair. 

"He's probably the sanest person I know," Saffir lies, and brushes past him. The other boy lets him go with a soft laugh. The memory of it lingers with Saffir, the sound a ghost that hangs around him, and leaves the taste of ash in his mouth. 

*

The newcomer's name is Rubeus, and he transferred from a school several districts away. He's rich, and has a reputation for being a bastard. Saffir looks into it, and hears that there are rumors that he very casually set fire to his house one night a couple years back, with his mother still sleeping in it.

They're just rumors, though, not fact. So there's no reason for Saffir's pulse to jump when he sees the smirking red of Rubeus' eyes, or the lazy way he slouches through the halls. No reason for Saffir's mouth to go dry, and for him to actually feel halfway alive, when he’s drowning the midst of so much superficiality.

There’s no reason for it, but that doesn’t mean that it stops happening.

*

"You know, you don't actually hide it well. It's only the fact that they can't comprehend that you might be discontent that lets you get away with it."

Saffir pauses where he was about to pull a book down from a library shelf. He tosses a dark look over his shoulder, and says, "Excuse me?"

Rubeus smiles, and says, "You hate. I can see it in your eyes, pretty boy."

Saffir watches the other boy for a long moment, trying to ignore the way his heart is tripping all over itself, how his skin is prickling and tight, how everything seems sharper, clearer, more brilliant, somehow. Rubeus is like a ragged tear of fire throwing wild reflections off all the polished crystal of their world. 

"And what," Saffir says very calmly, with only a slight frown, "are you going to do about it?"

It makes Rubeus chuckle, and he moves closer; it's very easy for the red head to put his arms up, to box Saffir in against the book shelf, because Saffir refuses to move anywhere, just meets Rubeus' bright gaze with the dark glimmer of his own.

"Why don't you come over to my house tonight, and find out?"

*

Saffir is quite certain that he's as insane as his brother now. Because he's sneaking out of his house after his parents have said their good nights and shut their door and the house is at rest. It's easy to sneak out; there is no need for alarms in Crystal Tokyo, after all, and Saffir's parents would never expect this.

The night air smells cleaner, for some reason, this night, and Saffir pulls up the collar of his dark jacket, his hands in the pockets, and starts walking.

He must be crazy to be doing this, but Saffir thinks maybe he's finally getting it. Finally getting that just knowing and hating and not _doing_ anything isn't enough, will never _be_ enough. It's still not living; it's letting Crystal Tokyo smother and suffocate him, just like everyone else. Only Saffir suffers like those other fools never will, because they're so perfectly fucking oblivious, when Saffir knows the truth of their prettily done up prison.

And maybe it's time he changed that, and maybe Rubeus will be the one to help him do it.

Rubeus lives in a house far too large for himself; he lives in it alone, his mother dead in that house fire and his father on perpetual business trips. Saffir lets himself in and doesn't plan on announcing himself, which is just fine since Rubeus had been sitting perched on the upstairs banister, waiting.

"Good," he says with a grin, "you came. Come on up."

Then he's gone, and Saffir's heart is racing again, and his mouth is so dry that it tastes like ashes. Ash, and excitement. Saffir goes up the stairs eagerly.

*

There are mirrors, long silver mirrors set artistically around Rubeus’ large, high bed, and Saffir feels a rush of heat soar through him at the sight of it. He doesn’t understand, not really; just enough to be hungry for it. 

"What-?" Saffir begins to ask, but he can't get anything else out, because Rubeus hits him, hard; slaps him right across the face, and Saffir is left blinking into one of those long silver mirrors that line Rubeus' walls. He can see himself in it, perfectly: a pale kid in dark clothes, hair just a touch too long and eyes wide, emotion roiling in their dark depths. A hand mark is already starting to come up on his cheek, red and throbbing, and Saffir is struck by how, for the first time in a long time, he looks alive. Vibrant.

Rubeus comes up behind him, and he's wearing nothing save some old army cargo pants dredged up from who knows what century. He presses against Saffir’s back, hot and hard and unapologetic, one arm sneaking like a vice around Saffir’s middle, to pull him even tighter against him.

"Oops," he says, "Did I do that?"

His fingers lace through Saffir's hair, and he leans over his shoulder. Saffir watches it in the mirrors, watches Rubeus' eyes watching him, watches his face get closer. He can see the lewd slide of Rubeus' tongue against the raw throb of the slap mark, and Saffir shudders, hard, against Rubeus. 

Suddenly, and without a scrap of doubt, Saffir knows that this is everything he hadn’t dared hope for.

*

Saffir isn’t entirely certain as to how he wound up in this position, save that there was a scuffle involved, and Rubeus had managed to get a knee into Saffir’s back, and had shoved Saffir’s face into the pillows until Saffir was going light headed from lack of oxygen.

After that it’s a little blurrier, a rush of heat and sensation and rough words and rougher touches. Saffir is naked and trembling, and Rubeus is hot between his legs, rocking his cock up against Saffir’s, so that Saffir moans between gritted teeth. His hands are bound to the headboard, and he can’t stop glaring at Rubeus, who grins so cruelly, so perfectly, and gives him everything Saffir could ask for and more.

“That’s right,” Rubeus says. “The hate in your eyes is beautiful. Do you feel alive yet? Like you’re burning? I’m going to burn your mask to the ground.” He chuckles, and moves, and then something cold and wet is dripping along the crack of Saffir’s ass, and he snaps, bucks, exclaims, “What the _fuck_?!”

Rubeus laughs. “I’m going to fuck you,” he says slowly, savoring each word, the light in his fire-bright eyes wicked, “so hard and so raw that every time your prissy, perfect little self tries to forget and blend in, you’ll feel it, you’ll feel our reality. _Ours_.”

There’s something pushing into his ass, and Saffir fights it, whines high in his throat and tries to wriggle away. It’s weird and uncomfortable, and his heart is beating so hard Saffir is pretty sure it’s trying to fly out of his chest, and his cock is hard and leaking, his shoulders straining. He rolls his head wildly, trying to see, to understand, and then, there, he can see it, in the mirror.

Saffir’s breath catches and he goes still, because he looks like a different person entirely. Debauched and wild and alive, and for a moment he has the wryly amused thought, _this can’t be something they’d condone in polite society_ before he’s choking on a gasp, eyes locked onto the sight of Rubeus twisting his fingers up, into Saffir’s ass. He’s watching their reflections, hungry and unable to stop, because there’s something awful and delicious about seeing this, seeing Rubeus’ fingers disappearing knuckle deep inside, twisting and spreading and wriggling. He can feel it, too, and Saffir is panting, because it’s starting to feel good now, oddly enough, the stretch, the burn, the overfull feel. 

He moans, and Rubeus must take that as a sign. He pulls his fingers out with a hungry grin, grabs tight beneath Saffir’s knees, and presses them up, so that Saffir is pressed tight into himself, compact and on display. He can just see them in the mirror, can just watch as Rubeus expertly lines up and presses his cock into Saffir’s ass, presses in, and Saffir is whining high in his throat again, it’s too full and too thick and not slick enough, and he can see how the skin of his hole clings to Rubeus’ cock, and it shouldn’t be this glorious, but it is.

*

When Saffir comes, it’s like his entire world has shattered, crystal shards falling useless to the ground, and he knows that he can never, ever go back.


End file.
